tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78007702564145010502015-01-23T10:29:31.729-08:00The Brutal CircleRob Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14856265820937612260noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-81625551508473447822011-10-05T10:31:00.000-07:002011-10-05T11:10:14.882-07:0052 to the Future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4I7swiclcng/ToyJ0rRju9I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/e6yU_Q35nSY/s1600/justiceleaguetumblerfull_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4I7swiclcng/ToyJ0rRju9I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/e6yU_Q35nSY/s320/justiceleaguetumblerfull_02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">So, as anyone who has any kind of interest in comics knows by now, the entire month of September was given over to DC’s New 52, a relaunch of the company’s full lineup of comics.&nbsp;Making New 52 even more of an event was the fact DC decided to release the digital version of issues day and date, meaning you could (legally) download them the same day the floppies came out.&nbsp;What happened as a result?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Initial results are promising. Despite concern over what day and date digital release might do to floppy sales and comics retailers, not only have digital sales for DC gone up, but sales of floppies have increased, as well.&nbsp;It’s too soon to know whether this trend will hold and validate DC’s strategy to expand its customer base, but the one certainty here appears to be that digital sales will play an increasingly important role in the future of comics.&nbsp;And that means&nbsp;(since we all know the medium shapes the message) that&nbsp;comics will change.<br /><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Can we forecast any of those changes from here?&nbsp;Maybe.&nbsp;Here are a few thoughts and predictions:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>When it comes to digital, the cover becomes less important.</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;The cover of a floppy or trade has always been a crucial aspect of selling a book, serving as a miniature billboard that catches the customer’s attention as they browse the aisles. But when you’re browsing on digital distribution platforms like Comixology, the covers are literally the size of a postage stamp.&nbsp;As a result, a more important factor in getting undecided customers to buy a book will be whether or not they like what they see in the preview pages.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Right now, the previews stink.&nbsp;</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Given that they’ll become increasingly important in getting people to buy, why are they just three pages, often from what feels like an arbitrary point in the middle of the issue?&nbsp;By the time you reach the end you’re often still not really hooked into the story.&nbsp;Why not preview five pages?&nbsp;Seven?&nbsp;Giving the customer more free pages shouldn’t matter, so long as they feel compelled to pay the full issue price by the time they’re done, and getting them more fully immersed in the story would help make that happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Digital distribution will change comics story structure.&nbsp;</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">This will happen because again, the preview pages are going to become increasingly important in generating online sales.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Comics writers and editors might do well to take a cue from network television here: because the creators of network tv shows know the greatest chances of losing viewers come at the top and bottom of the hour (that’s when viewers are most likely to change channels to see what else is on), the writers will deliberately try to structure the biggest revelations, the most exciting plot twists, to occur before the very first commercial break (at the end of the short initial segment referred to as the “teaser”), and before the commercial break that occurs at the halfway point of the episode.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">In comics we’re already used to seeing a big, dramatic reveal or “cliffhanger” at the end of an issue, so that we’ll buy again next month.&nbsp;I think eventually we’ll start seeing the comics equivalent of structuring a teaser into the beginning of issues, so those pages will make for more exciting preview pages online – they’ll get customers to buy an issue the same way a good teaser on a tv show gets viewers to stick around through the commercial break.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But will such changes ultimately be enough to make comics a thriving industry, during a time all media platforms are going through upheaval?&nbsp;Or will even more drastic change be necessary?&nbsp;I personally suspect we're just seeing the tip of the iceburg.&nbsp;And that it’s going to be very interesting watching comics go through a period of unprecedented innovation.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">FK</div>Frederick Kimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07610339388347782000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-71973328313148562112011-08-03T08:35:00.000-07:002011-08-03T08:35:36.145-07:00Adventures In ExpositionExposition is the bane of every writer, no matter what form of storytelling you’re engaged in.&nbsp; That’s because exposition – factual information your reader or viewer needs in order to comprehend a story development, yet in and of itself is devoid of emotional content – can be pretty boring.&nbsp; Think of the technobabble in Star Trek.&nbsp; Or any time a character in a story starts a statement with the words, “As you know, Skippy….”&nbsp; Handled improperly, exposition can come off like a dry and unengaging lesson in a textbook, and cause your reader to put down your work for something more interesting.<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, I personally don’t think all exposition is necessarily toxic.&nbsp; Sometimes learning factual information can be interesting&nbsp;–&nbsp;we wouldn’t have the genre of science fiction at all if this weren’t true.&nbsp; But in general when dealing with exposition, it’s best to be aware that you’re getting into treacherous territory.<br /><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal">So how to deal with this thorny problem?&nbsp; Let’s look at a few different ways to tackle it:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Turn exposition into ammunition.</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The classic (and best) approach is to give your exposition an emotional charge.&nbsp; For instance, rather than have a character merely recite the facts that need to be explained, have two or more characters get into an argument, each using the expositional facts to bolster their side of the debate.&nbsp; One of my favorite examples of this comes early in the movie “Aliens,” where Ellen Ripley defends the actions she took in the first movie, before an inquest hearing.&nbsp; The scene is engaging because Ripley is fighting to defend her honor and alert the world to the danger out there.&nbsp; But at the same time, anyone who hasn’t watched the original “Alien” is caught up on everything they need to know to understand the sequel.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Conflict is inherently interesting, so using exposition in this way keeps the reader engaged.&nbsp; But what if a big shouting match is all wrong for the scene you need to create?&nbsp; There are times I’ll be watching a TV show or movie when an argument seems to come out of nowhere, and I often suspect it’s because the writer felt there was no other way to get the exposition out, or make the scene interesting.&nbsp; But it doesn’t always feel natural or “organic” when conflict comes out of left field.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal">Given the kind of writing I do, I’m always looking for new ways to handle exposition.&nbsp; These next two techniques are ones I didn’t learn in any book or classroom, but from watching and reading the works of talented storytellers.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Turn exposition into gratification.</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead of having the exposition be something the reader has to suffer through, make it something they demand to know.&nbsp; I found an example of this recently in George R.R. Martin’s “A Dance With Dragons” [minor spoilers ahead].&nbsp; A chapter about the character Tyrion centers on his interactions with some mysterious characters who are traveling with him on the same ship; it&nbsp;ends with Tyrion discovering that one of the strangers is royalty.&nbsp; But Martin doesn’t reveal all the information Tyrion knows at that point – we don’t get to learn who the stranger is specifically, or why people are going to such great lengths to keep him concealed.&nbsp; Those specific details are saved for several chapters down the line, by which time we’re eager to have that mystery solved, and are actually craving the paragraphs of exposition that will explain everything.<br /><br />For larger scale examples of this technique, look at movies like “The Matrix” or “Inception,” where we’re treated to fictional universes that work according to rules we don’t initially understand, but fascinate us with their possibilities.&nbsp; By not telling us those rules up front, we’re dying to know what they are by the time we get to the expositional lectures by Morpheus and Cobb.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Turn exposition into titillation.</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">I first really noticed this technique watching HBO series like “Boardwalk Empire” and “Game of Thrones,” when I realized how often topless women (usually nameless extras) appeared on both shows, and how their appearance usually coincided with the need to get out some bit of exposition.&nbsp; The rationale is easy enough to understand – if you’re worried about boring the viewers, give them something a little prurient to keep them from changing the channel.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />But what if you don’t want to go the soft-core porn route with your own work?&nbsp; Well, there are different kinds of porn.&nbsp; Food porn, for one – “A Dance With Dragons” is replete with it.&nbsp; Martin delights in describing sumptuous meals in great detail, and of course meals are frequently when his characters hold lengthy expositional discussions.&nbsp; Here’s an example, from a chapter in which Tyrion is traveling with a powerful benefactor:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><blockquote>“They nibbled on spiced sausage that morning, washed down with a dark smokeberry brown.&nbsp; Jellied eels and Dornish reds filled their afternoon.&nbsp; Come evening there were sliced hams, boiled eggs, and roasted larks stuffed with garlic and onions, with pale ales and Myrish fire wines to help their digestion.”&nbsp;</blockquote>In this same chapter there are mentions of blackberries in cream, roasted chestnuts, garlic snails, and even more food items.&nbsp; The effect is to hold the reader’s attention through the exposition, by appealing to their gustatory cravings: “I wonder what a stuffed lark would taste like?&nbsp; Would I enjoy drinking Myrish fire wine?”<br /><br />I’d bet this technique could be used with anything people tend to fetishize – guns, cars, whatever.&nbsp; But as versatile as it may be, I also think it’s probably the riskiest way to deal with exposition.&nbsp; I sometimes get tired of all the paragraphs about food in Martin’s prose, and there have been articles in The New York Times criticizing how needlessly HBO shows off female flesh.&nbsp;<br /><br />Perhaps the best use of this technique would be to find a way to make it simultaneously reveal character: In Alan Moore’s “The Killing Joke,” for example, there’s a scene where two criminals try to convince a comedian to pull off a heist dressed up as the Red Hood.&nbsp; As they detail their plans, the panels in the graphic novel focus on the shrimp or crawfish they’re breaking apart and eating, complete with sound effects (“SCRIT”… “KLITCH”… “RISP”… “CLEC”… “GRIK”).&nbsp; The cracking of the shellfish symbolizes the way the comedian is cracking mentally at that point – he’s on his way to becoming the villainous Joker.&nbsp; As a result what could have been an unremarkable scene becomes a standout one.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />So there you have it: three different ways to deal with exposition.&nbsp; See which of these works best for you, next time you need to break that info dump down into something that’ll be palatable to your audience.&nbsp; And if you know of any other techniques, let me know… I’m always looking for new ways to deal with this particular bugaboo.<br /><br />FK</div>Frederick Kimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07610339388347782000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-87230367192936860592011-05-21T12:04:00.000-07:002011-05-26T06:38:55.682-07:00Mindless Tasks<div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I used to loathe mindless tasks.&nbsp; Mindless tasks used to drive me insane and were a waste of what priceless little free time I had.&nbsp; I would do whatever I could to make those tasks vanish so I could get to the really important things.&nbsp; Mainly I wanted to spend my time playing the latest version of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Resident Evil</i>, or watching cartoons, or drinking beer with friends.&nbsp; But then came the love of writing.&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve already detailed how I rearranged my life to accommodate writing (<a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/finding-time.html">here</a>), but I found that I wanted to spend that time actually writing and not sitting staring at a blank screen.&nbsp; To do this, I need ideas.&nbsp; I need something, anything, to begin constructing the bridges between characters and story, but a glaring white screen is disheartening and gets me nowhere.&nbsp; Here I’ve gone to the trouble of upending my life to create this priceless daily pocket of an hour or two to work on what matters most, and I am stuck trying to unearth why a character is standing in a shipping yard.&nbsp; Then life rolls in, and the window of time ends with little progress on any front. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><a name='more'></a><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I already knew what I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">loved</b> to do, but I began to think about the things I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">had </b>to do, but did not necessarily enjoy.&nbsp; There was exercise, cleaning, folding laundry, dishes (the reviled instrument-of-the-devil washing and drying of the thrice damned dishes) and driving to this place or that.&nbsp; These tasks had to be done, and commanded attention, but instead of listening to loud music, or Audible books or podcasts, I stopped the distractions.&nbsp; The situations and characters for my first novel, the work-in-progress novel and almost every comic book script that I have ever written developed during 30-minute runs and while sitting at excessively long traffic lights.&nbsp; An alien creature—it’s look, coloring, weight, body length, abilities, and weaknesses—came about during the pairing of mountains of washed socks and it served to be a companion for another character devised during the previous day’s run.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is not to say that I don’t blare some ABBA or Judas Priest on the home stereo, or enjoy a <em>True Blood</em> audiobook on a long run, I only do so when I have a bank of ideas ready to go for the week ahead.&nbsp; I am doubly not suggesting that doing these mindless tasks are now somehow magically enjoyable…they still suck, but these mandatory responsibilities have now become part of my creative process.&nbsp; The time is there, so I might as well make it work for me so I can actually write when I am supposed to write.&nbsp; </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">What sort of mindless tasks do you hate, but manage to work in your favor?&nbsp; Let me know, I would love to hear about it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">*Disclaimer:&nbsp; I do not exhibit any manner of creativity when it comes time to wash/dry dishes.&nbsp; My hatred of this task is so all-consuming that I cannot work past the annoyance to wring out any sort of creativity. Dishes are an instrument of the devil...we&nbsp;all feel this way…right?</div>Don McMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871624966586083665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-22831211221773228342011-05-02T08:01:00.000-07:002011-05-02T08:01:29.736-07:00You Had To Be There.I recently stumbled upon a writing exercise that I really feel works for me. I'm going to share it with you but first, a very short story to get us started.<br /><blockquote><i>Your own bathroom is the greatest bathroom there is and I just wasn’t going to make it to mine. A fast food restaurant down the street offered a solution to my predicament but when I got there I ran into a problem: The bathroom door was locked; some jerk was already in there!<br /><br />There is a dance, more of a jig really, that everyone knows despite having never received instruction: The Pee-Pee Dance. I mastered this dance that day before that locked door and to the amusement of anyone who cared to look up from their shame-based value meals. I could only imagine how silly I looked but could only care about the quick exit of the person occupying that bathroom.<br /><br />As the pressure turned to pain, anxiety turned to panic. Was this about to become the last time I could show my face in this establishment? The toilet flushes and suddenly the world is a brighter place. I listen with anticipation as my antagonist washes his hands. Almost there!<br /><br />The water stops and is followed by the raspy hum of the hair dryer. Why couldn’t he just dry his hands on his shirt or jeans like a proper slacker? The hand dryer stops and in my head a chorus of hallelujah! The hand dryer starts its cycle again. Are you kidding me?<br /><br />I’m on the verge of tears. It powers down and with good measure as enough is enough. The hand dryer starts again for the third time. Three times. THREE! Why? Who needs their hands that dry? On the verge of tears and a ruined pair of jeans the dryer powers down and I hear the lock on the door unlatch. I’m about to face someone I have never seen but currently hate with every fiber of my being.<br /><br />As the door opens I am stricken with the sort of laughter that could only come from a combination of madness and defeat. Exiting the bathroom is a child between the ages of eight and ten with thick glasses and long hair which he has used the hand dryer to style standing straight up. I’ll spare you the details of what happened next though I will say it was the ending I was hoping for.</i></blockquote>This story used to conclude with that time honored phrase that is usually uttered insecurely and in self defeat: <i>I guess you had to be there</i>. I have recently come to the realization that I absolutely love you-had-to-be-there stories simply for their sincerity. The storyteller genuinely wants to share this story and is driven to do so without any idea that the listener lacks components necessary to the enjoyment of it. The story is told regardless and regardless it fails in its intended manner.<br /><br />Most people will keep these filed away as you-had-to-be-there stories; a sort of social faux pas that results in brief and friendly ridicule that happens from time to time. I see potential though... <br /><br />These stories come from the heart so why not use that? The next time you find yourself telling one of these stories write it down. Later, when you get the chance, go through the steps of the story. It failed when you told it the first time around because it was missing pieces. Make a list of those pieces.<br /><br />My initial story went like this: <i>Dude, this one time I really had to go to the bathroom but someone was in there and when they came out, it was this kid with crazy hair…um…I guess you had to be there.</i> By going back and chronicling the steps that lead to the story I was so excited to tell, I was able to bring you along with me. You got to glimpse inside my head and witness my dire sense of immediacy and when I get to the part about the kid you better understand why I felt the story was worth sharing. <br /><br />Now my story of the junior bathroom stylist may not be earning me praise anytime soon but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I not only wrote something but wrote something that was exciting and fun for me to write. If I keep this exercise up then two things are going to happen: A) I’m going to start associating writing with that fun and excitement; and B) My readers will pick up on that fun and excitement which they will hopefully share. <br /><br />The next time you find yourself telling a "you-had-to-be-there" story, try the exercise of writing it down, and see if you can <i>bring</i> them there.Bill Yurkasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-9747018656761474932011-04-20T10:46:00.000-07:002011-04-20T10:46:00.583-07:00It's Not Fantasy, It's HBO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUp6PLTLuVc/Ta6KDtHqFzI/AAAAAAAAACY/e6nlBGLS8Q4/s1600/game-of-thrones-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUp6PLTLuVc/Ta6KDtHqFzI/AAAAAAAAACY/e6nlBGLS8Q4/s320/game-of-thrones-logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">By now many of you have (hopefully) tuned in to watch HBO’s new fantasy series, “Game Of Thrones.” And by now you may even know about the fan outcry against some of the unkinder reviews, particularly the one in the <a href="http://tv.nytimes.com/2011/04/15/arts/television/game-of-thrones-begins-sunday-on-hbo-review.html">New York Times</a> by Ginia Bellafante, in which she asks the question, “What is ‘Game of Thrones’ doing on HBO?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">A lot of the ire directed at Bellafante comes from her claims that women really won’t (or ought not to) be interested in the series.&nbsp;But what infuriates and baffles me just as much about her review is that she professes to enjoy a lot of the same series I do.&nbsp;“Rome,” “Deadwood,” “The Sopranos”… I love these series for how they explore situation and character, in a way that’s dramatic, intelligent, and insightful.&nbsp;That’s also precisely why I love “Game of Thrones” the book series, and was so excited to see it come to HBO: I thought this would be <i>the</i> opportunity, at long last, to topple the lingering snobbery toward genre material as inconsequential fluff.&nbsp; “Game of Thrones,” as its many readers can attest to, is the kind of work that has the depth of character and unerring sense of drama that HBO’s best series are known for.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And yet here we are, right back at square one.&nbsp; Despite great acting, great production values, and a great story, “Game of Thrones” is being dismissed out of hand, really for no other reason than it’s imaginative. It’s <i>fake</i>!&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>“Since the arrival of ‘The Sopranos’ more than a decade ago,” writes Bellafante, “HBO has distinguished itself as a corporate auteur committed, when it is as [sic] its most intelligent and dazzling, to examining the way that institutions are made and how they are upheld or fall apart: the Mafia, municipal government (‘The Wire’), the Roman empire (‘Rome'), the American West (‘Deadwood’), religious fundamentalism (‘Big Love’).”<br /><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But “when the network ventures away from its instincts for real-world sociology… things start to feel cheap, and we feel we have been placed in the hands of cheaters. ‘Game of Thrones’ serves up a lot of confusion in the name of no larger or really relevant idea.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Do I really need to point out that series like “Rome” and “Deadwood” aren’t documentaries about what really happened, but draw upon their fair share (sometimes more than their fair share) of literary license?&nbsp; That whatever relationship the stories of those series had to the truth came out of a dramatic need to tell The Truth, as opposed to any impulse toward historical fastidiousness?&nbsp; Not to mention that “Thrones” itself is loosely based on The War of the Roses. In all honesty, “Game of Thrones” is just a little farther along the speculative spectrum than the shows Bellafante appreciates, but apparently the addition of a few dragon eggs and White Walkers are enough to make the whole enterprise feel “cheap” in comparison.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Bellafante ascribes gender differences to her dislike of the fantasy genre, but (as the number of female fantasy fans rising up against her attests to) what’s really at fault here is a failure of the imagination, and an underdeveloped sense of wonder.&nbsp; It’s really no different from when I had to listen to kids at school dismiss a show like “Star Trek” for being "unrealistic," even as they talked rapturously about soap opera plots where every character was in a love triangle, had an evil twin, and was involved in a plot to murder, kidnap, or brainwash somebody.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It is true that general attitudes toward speculative fiction, or “genre” material have improved greatly in recent years. And it’s not for nothing that events like Comic-Con are now major focal points in the pop cultural landscape. But reviews like the one by Bellafante remind me that the situation was once different, even during my own lifetime, and certainly much worse in times before. It makes me that much more appreciative of all those past creators who toiled on works of imagination, despite the criticism and negativity the world heaped upon them for their efforts. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">As for “Game of Thrones” the series, I enjoyed the first episode very much. There was a lot to get through, in terms of both introducing the world and the large cast of characters, so I don’t think it showed off to fullest effect the series’ potential. But the show has already received the greenlight for a second season, and should have plenty of time to prove Bellafante wrong in her judgement about fantasy’s worth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">If it can do that I hope HBO keeps the show runnng for the next ten years.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">FK</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Frederick Kimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07610339388347782000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-41394783483215811582011-04-13T12:53:00.000-07:002011-04-13T13:02:40.594-07:00Defeating the Inner Naysayer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86Femy6dluk/TaW0qq_mGPI/AAAAAAAAASI/7oI9bDCmbac/s1600/cohdra100_1473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86Femy6dluk/TaW0qq_mGPI/AAAAAAAAASI/7oI9bDCmbac/s200/cohdra100_1473.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>I can't recall how many times I have walked by my computer, frowned, and asked myself <i>what the hell am I doing?</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Why am I even bothering to write?</i> &nbsp;I mean, everything worth saying has already been said and it has been said much better than I could ever convey.&nbsp;&nbsp;So what's the point? &nbsp;I would then find things to fill the time that I should have spent writing. &nbsp;DVDs needed to be organized, that new spin-off of a show I never really liked was starting in a few minutes, or that new first person shooter game was released today and I needed to pick it up. <br /><br />It wasn't that there were things that needed to be done, there are always things that need to be done, I was scared, terrified of letting others see the faults in my writing which translated to faults with me. &nbsp;If I write anything,&nbsp;except in&nbsp;the most private journal complete with heart-shaped lock and bejeweled key to keep out all prying eyes, then I was writing not just for myself, but ultimately for viewing by others. &nbsp;The moment before pressing the "Send" button or hitting "Publish Post" my heart would race and I would consider pulling back to hole up into the infinite loop of revision&nbsp;where nothing ever gets done. &nbsp;(See my earlier post <a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/everything-i-learned-about-writing-my.html">here</a> on writing a first novel or Paul's excellent piece on first drafts <a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/only-goal-of-first-draft.html#more">here</a>).<br /><a name='more'></a><br />Looking back, if Junior High taught me anything, it was the self-doubt and fear of having my faults pointed out and now, twenty plus years later, I'm opening myself up to further scrutiny. &nbsp;How do I push past the fear and manage to get anything down on a page? &nbsp;It's difficult, don't get me wrong, but at the same time I love writing, it gives me joy, it's part of my life and who I am.&nbsp;&nbsp;Why would I ever let something so ridiculous as fear of rejection prevent me from doing that which makes me happy? <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/N'Kantu_(Earth-616)" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NWz4WljNJt8/TaX6-6Rn4_I/AAAAAAAAASQ/_MA6K3W7fRs/s200/Marvel+Mummy.gif" width="110" /></a></div>It's best to recount a day in my high school English class, where we were required to write a short three or four page story which was gathered, shuffled and read anonymously. &nbsp;My story consisted of a hero, a princess, a dragon, a mummy and a quest of some sort that I had pieced together with a twist. &nbsp;Even under a shroud of anonymity, that old junior high doubt sent chills careening down my spine and sweat beading on my forehead as the first sentence was read. &nbsp;The class was silent for the duration, but at the end everyone cheered. &nbsp;They cheered for something that I had created, and more importantly, they cheered for something that I had enjoyed writing. &nbsp;That is the feeling I want to remember, my little victory, that is where I needed to be focusing my attention.<br /><br />So how do I get past the <i>you can't write</i>, <i>you suck</i>, <i>why bother</i> periods? &nbsp;Stubbornness definitely has something to do with it, but mostly I remember how fulfilling art is to my life, and good or bad I am committed to that which makes me happy. &nbsp;I also know that to do this I need to be professional in my approach and to work at it every day in all manner of formats. &nbsp;I make time for my writing (see an earlier post about that&nbsp;<a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/finding-time.html">here</a>), it is a priority. &nbsp;I intentionally do not allow myself the out of being too tired at night to write or too busy to find the time. &nbsp;Also, if I am to be professional about my art, I need to get it out in public for everyone to see.&nbsp;&nbsp;If I continue to be meek, little Don McMillan, then there really is no point in my efforts and I might as well go back to playing video games and watching sitcoms.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.strangersinparadise.com/store.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KQ9bg7u47z8/TaX50MELiaI/AAAAAAAAASM/_9gYR_5bZAg/s200/SIP.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>At this past Wondercon in San Francisco, I attended a panel with one of my favorite creators, <a href="http://www.strangersinparadise.com/">Terry Moore</a> (I mention his panel at <a href="http://donistworld.blogspot.com/2011/04/wondercon-day-one.html">Donist World</a>).&nbsp;&nbsp;During the hour talk, he&nbsp;stated, "Don't wait, start now and grow up in public." &nbsp;This was a powerful message on both doubting yourself and the resulting procrastination that comes from fear. &nbsp;You have to get your work out there, even if you do not feel you are ready (I will always fight this feeling), you&nbsp;need to&nbsp;learn from both&nbsp;constructive criticism and from your errors. &nbsp;Mr. Moore also stated "Inside me is a steel tower that really believes I can do it," and although I am nowhere near that degree of confidence in my work, my goal is to someday&nbsp;reach that point.<br /><br />Fear and doubt have been part of my make-up for twenty-six years;&nbsp;I have been waging war on that negativity for the past two. &nbsp;Changing old habits takes time, but I make sure I am always moving forward on projects and that I always have ideas tucked away for later use. &nbsp;More importantly, I now go against my shy, meek nature and post my writing to my writing groups, to the blog or to the <a href="http://www.comicsexperience.com/workshop.html">Comics Experience&nbsp;Workshop</a> forums to be judged and critiqued. &nbsp;If response comes back negative from sources that I trust, then I have some work to do. &nbsp;If&nbsp;I receive applause&nbsp;to what I have written...well, there is probably still some work to do, but little can replace the feeling of joy&nbsp;from others&nbsp;liking&nbsp;my stories--even if&nbsp;they are&nbsp;about mummies and maidens. &nbsp;But in order to receive any feedback, I have to conquer my fear and doubt, get my work out there, and grow up in public.&nbsp;&nbsp;If I never get past my self-constructed blockades, then my writing is little more than&nbsp;a "Dear Diary" entry, and what fun is there in that?<br /><br />I would love to hear&nbsp;how you deal with your own self-created roadblocks, or if you are one of those rare individuals who has always been able to move past the fear and doubt let me know about that too.Don McMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871624966586083665noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-76400438447652544482011-03-31T06:41:00.000-07:002011-03-31T09:47:06.882-07:00Making Fight Scenes Matter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--ieX4PT3p0k/TZSKydnfjxI/AAAAAAAAAsE/iYHmqCQpdJ4/s1600/dan-and-al-deadwood.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--ieX4PT3p0k/TZSKydnfjxI/AAAAAAAAAsE/iYHmqCQpdJ4/s200/dan-and-al-deadwood.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590245637021994770" /></a>Last night, I yelled at my tv screen. At a fight. That I'd seen before. <br /><br />I was on the edge of my seat.<br /><br />Granted, I didn't remember how the fight ended; my memory is terrible for such things. But, still, my significant other commented on it. She knows I'm pretty jaded when it comes to fight scenes. Over the last couple years, my eyes have started to glaze over during most movie action sequences. And my days of feeling excited about two superhero teams meeting and having a fight due to a misunderstanding are behind me. But there I was, watching a tv show and yelling, like I was cage-side at a UFC championship match.<br /><br />The episode in question was <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Deadwood</span></span>, Season 3, "<span style="font-style:italic;">The Two-Headed Beast</span>," written by David Milch. <span style="font-weight:bold;">[Warning: SPOILERS ahead!]</span> <a name='more'></a><br /><br />If you've never seen <span style="font-style:italic;">Deadwood</span>, you should. It's a fantastic show--a gritty Western drama set in a growing town in the Dakota Territory. By the time we reach Season 3, the camp is struggling with growth and the prospect of annexation. Because of the gold in the hills, the town is in danger of becoming the plaything of the avaricious George Hearst. Seemingly the only person capable of making a stand against Hearst is Al Swearengen, the brutal owner of the Gem Saloon, who over the course of the show has become the villain we root for, despite ourselves. In this episode, the street brawl--to the death--was between Swearengen's loyal right-hand man, Dan Dority, and Hearst's massive bodyguard, Captain Joe Turner. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pUpjK3AEjWk/TZSM75M9miI/AAAAAAAAAsU/LvDqZWcWg18/s1600/swearengen.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pUpjK3AEjWk/TZSM75M9miI/AAAAAAAAAsU/LvDqZWcWg18/s200/swearengen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590247998068988450" /></a>So, as I took my dog for a walk this morning, I reflected on my reaction to the fight between Dan and the Captain. What, exactly, made it so special to me?<br /><br />It wasn't just the stakes. True, in some ways, the fate of the town hung in the balance. A victory by Hearst's man likely would have broken the spirit of the town. But "stakes" are not enough. In practically every comic book or action movie, the fate of the city, if not the world, hangs in the balance. <yawn><br /><br />It also wasn't just the "cool factor" of the two bad asses of the show finally facing off. I admit, that alone would have made the fight entertaining, and can often make a comic book fight worth the price of admission. But however much bad assery is in play, it's going to be a tough sell to have me <span style="font-style:italic;">yelling</span>.<br /><br />No, the answer was pretty obvious. It was about the <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">emotion</span></span>, and the emotion came from my involvement with the <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">characters</span></span>. It always comes back to the characters, doesn't it? And in this case, it wasn't mainly my involvement with the characters that were fighting. My reaction was being driven by Swearengen, watching the fight from his balcony. He never even threw a punch.<br /><br />How did the writers pull this off? By making this moment crucial to the characters we're invested in. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w-Ip2c16MY4/TZSNpeNfmhI/AAAAAAAAAsc/DsMeOJoM4Us/s1600/held.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w-Ip2c16MY4/TZSNpeNfmhI/AAAAAAAAAsc/DsMeOJoM4Us/s200/held.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590248781097441810" /></a>In an earlier episode, Swearengen was held down by the Captain, as Hearst cut off one of Swearengen's fingers with a pick axe. It's a brutal scene, on a show with many brutal scenes, but there's something especially horrible about seeing Swearengen--the man who is never at a disadvantage--so helpless.<br /><br />Over the course of the following episodes, we see the effect this incident has had on Swearengen. In one episode, another character remarks that he's holed up in his office. We see later references to the constant pain his hand is causing him. And he continues to hold back his men, especially Dan Dority, from retaliation. Swearengen already knew he was overmatched with Hearst and had been proceeding with caution. After his finger was cut off, the audience (and all the characters on the show) wondered, without saying it out loud, was Swearengen beaten?<br /><br />But the emotional importance of the fight didn't end there. In an episode prior to the fight, Swearengen breaks down in front of one of his whores, remembering how he was held down as a child by a large man at an orphanage while his mother left him. We've heard hints of Swearengen's upbringing earlier--this story doesn't come out of the blue--but now we understand the emotional impact being held down, helpless before his rival Hearst, had on him. In a nice character moment, Swearengen momentarily connects with his girl when she says she hates being held down as well.<br /><br />Layered on this is the loyalty and long connection between Swearengen and his man, Dan Dority. We know that they met when Dan was young, a cut-throat essentially running wild in the forest. Dan has grown up with Swearengen and owes everything he has in life to him. He kills for Swearengen. He protects him. Dan loves Swearengen with such fierce loyalty that his jealousy of another member of Al's inner circle has led to both humorous moments and violence in the past. As the fight approaches, the thought of Dan losing--of him being killed trying to avenge Swearengen's attack--is almost painful. As Dan prepares for the fight, greasing his body to make himself slick, even another character is worried he may not be able to take the Captain.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AisboSuUUdo/TZSLX9m_sTI/AAAAAAAAAsM/R_J_Z6hVGUc/s1600/fight2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AisboSuUUdo/TZSLX9m_sTI/AAAAAAAAAsM/R_J_Z6hVGUc/s200/fight2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590246281265000754" /></a>When we come to the fight itself, it goes on for nearly five brutal minutes. We get all the things we expect. The moment at the beginning when the two combatants face off. The fight going back and forth. The moment when it appears Dan will be drowned. The turning point when Dan plucks out the Captain's eyeball. But through it all, Swearengen and Hearst watch from their balconies. <br /><br />At key moments in the fight, the combatants look up. When it looks like Dan will die, and we see Swearengen's reaction--technically his <span style="font-style:italic;">lack </span>of reaction--we feel his pain. He's about to lose his best friend, and his chance to avenge himself. His ability to cope with the helplessness he felt may be gone forever. So when Dan finally has the upper hand again, and looks up at Swearengen before delivering the killing blow, the moment is <span style="font-style:italic;">fraught </span>with emotion.<br /><br />I've gone on at some length here to give a real sense of the character development and emotion that gave this fight so much meaning. As I create my own fight scenes, I'll be comparing it to my reaction to this seminal moment in <span style="font-style:italic;">Deadwood</span>. I won't just be asking what's at stake in the world I created--but what's at stake for the <span style="font-style:italic;">characters</span>. And I'll be asking myself if I've given the reader the opportunity to connect with that character and their emotions. Can I make the reader <span style="font-style:italic;">feel</span> the fight in their <span style="font-style:italic;">hearts</span>?<br /><br />Fights--at least the ones I care about--involve characters I care about. I may be jaded when it comes to most fight scenes, but I can't get enough of fight scenes that matter. I wait, with anticipation, for the next one that has me yelling at the screen. <br /><br />Maybe that scene will be written by you.Rob Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14856265820937612260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-10454656149542013302011-03-28T03:05:00.000-07:002011-03-28T03:05:01.491-07:00Revealing Character The 'Justified' Way<blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: ArialMT;"><i>"Whatever happened to Gary Cooper? The strong, silent type. </i><i><b>That</b></i><i> was an American. He wasn't in touch with his feelings. He just did what he had to do!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: ArialMT;"><i>"Unfortunately, what they didn't know was once they got Gary Cooper in touch with his feelings, they wouldn't be able to shut him up! Dysfunction this!&nbsp;Dysfunction that!&nbsp;Dysfunction <b>va fan cul’</b>!" &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</i></span>&nbsp;</div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 13pt;"><i>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;- Tony Soprano</i></span></div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One of my favorite series on the air right now is FX’s <i>Justified</i>.&nbsp;For those of you not familiar with the show, it’s probably best described as a modern-day Western (though it’s set in Kentucky).&nbsp;Starring the always impressive Timothy Oliphant as Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, <i>Justified</i> has its share of shootouts and showdowns, but what really draws me in is the way it gives characters that might have been the same old stock clichés (the kind that killed the Western in the first place) some real depth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0vgE10qkK84/TYzFTyFfYZI/AAAAAAAAACU/EQKx7wXtpZg/s1600/justified-fx-premiere_20110325043645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0vgE10qkK84/TYzFTyFfYZI/AAAAAAAAACU/EQKx7wXtpZg/s200/justified-fx-premiere_20110325043645.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Take Raylan himself, for example.&nbsp;At first glance he appears to be the kind of man Tony Soprano wished hadn’t disappeared: The taciturn lawman, a straightforward, uncomplicated guy who gets the job done.&nbsp;He isn’t the kind to vent on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Oprah</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, that’s for certain.&nbsp;So how to reveal there’s some complexity to him?</span><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Through action, of course.&nbsp;And in the first episode of the series,&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">[SPOILER ALERT!]&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">things start off with a literal bang as Raylan, assigned to the U.S. Marshal’s office in Miami, squares off against Tommy Bucks, a criminal with whom Raylan clearly has some history.&nbsp;In true Western fashion, Raylan has given Tommy an ultimatum - leave Miami in 24 hours... or else.&nbsp;But when Tommy refuses to leave, things quickly go south and Raylan ends up shooting him to death.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The question that hangs over the entire episode is, why did Raylan shoot Tommy?&nbsp;Raylan repeatedly points out that Tommy drew his weapon first, so the shooting was justified.&nbsp;But that doesn’t really answer why Raylan initiated the confrontation in the first place.&nbsp;As his&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">boss</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">&nbsp;in&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Miami reminds him, U.S. Marshals haven’t used those sorts of Wild West tactics in a hundred years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For punishment, Raylan gets reassigned to a district in Kentucky that includes the town of Harlan, where he was raised.&nbsp;His new boss there asks him, “Is your dad still down in Harlan?” “As far as I know,” Raylan answers.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Hmm.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Later, when Raylan meets Ava Crowder, an old flame, she asks him, “Have you been to see your father?”&nbsp;Raylan just sort of shakes his head, even though by now he’s been in town for a while.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Hmm</i>, again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The biggest clue we get into Raylan’s relationship with his father comes when Boyd Crowder, a neo-Nazi Raylan knows from the years they both mined coal as teenagers, asks him about the Tommy Bucks shooting.&nbsp;“Heard about that gun thug you shot in a hotel in Miami,” says Boyd, sneering.&nbsp;“At any point, when you were looking at that gun thug, did you see your daddy’s face?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Wow.&nbsp;As writers, we’ve all learned that character is revealed through action.&nbsp;But in this case, it’s also revealed by what Raylan </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>doesn’t</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> do – he never visits or talks to his father. Just this and Boyd's taunt is all it takes for us to realize that Raylan has serious father issues.&nbsp;We even get a sense of what kind of man Raylan’s father must be, even though Arlo Givens doesn't make his first appearance until several episodes into the series.&nbsp;And we get it all without having to be hit over the head with soap-opera style confessions, or teary moments on the psychiatrist’s couch.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It’s a subtle approach to revealing character, and it’s one that trusts the viewer will be paying close enough attention they won’t need to have everything spelled out. But it’s also an approach that really pulls the viewer in, by letting them know paying close attention will be rewarded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here’s another example: When Raylan first arrives in Kentucky, he learns his ex-wife, Winona, is also in the area.&nbsp;In fact, she works in the same courthouse Raylan will be working out of.&nbsp;But Raylan only reacts with mild surprise when he hears this.&nbsp;We don’t get any sense of how he feels toward her, even when he catches a glimpse of her in a courtroom later on.&nbsp;He does describe his marriage to Winona as a “mistake” during his visit with Ava Crowder... but he does so with a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">During that same visit with Ava, Raylan stops a neo-Nazi from barging into her house. “Lemme tell you something,” he says.&nbsp;“You don’t walk in a person’s house ‘less you’re invited.&nbsp; What you better do, go on outside and knock on the door.”&nbsp;Raylan relays this like he’s giving a lesson in courtesy.&nbsp;And throughout the episode, we see Raylan demonstrating this kind of basic respect.&nbsp;He practices what he preaches.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Until the end of the episode.&nbsp;He nearly gives Gary, Winona’s current husband, a heart attack in his own home, when the guy finds Raylan in his living room, sitting alone in the dark.&nbsp;Turns out Raylan broke into Gary and Winona’s house in the middle of the night, just so he could talk to her.&nbsp;And right there, by violating his own normal code of conduct, we realize that 1) Raylan doesn’t think much of Gary, and 2) He still has feelings for Winona.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After Winona scolds Raylan for breaking into her house, Raylan finally opens up, for the first time in the entire episode.&nbsp;He tells her how in Nicaragua he saw Tommy Bucks tape a piece of dynamite into a man’s mouth, and light it on fire.&nbsp; And that’s why Raylan visited Tommy in Miami and threatened to shoot him if he didn’t leave town.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“He pulled first, so I was justified,” says Raylan.&nbsp;“What troubles me, is what if he hadn’t?&nbsp; What if he just sat there and let the clock run out?&nbsp;Would I have killed him anyway?&nbsp;I know I wanted to.&nbsp;Guess I just never thought of myself as an angry man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At this point Winona smiles and shakes her head.&nbsp;“Raylan,” she says.&nbsp;“You do a good job of hiding it.&nbsp;And I suppose most folks don’t see it.&nbsp;But honestly?&nbsp; You’re the angriest man I have ever known.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As the show ended on a shot of Raylan mulling this over, I knew I was going to love this series.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">FK</span></div>Frederick Kimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07610339388347782000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-42593549393051301072011-03-25T06:58:00.000-07:002011-03-31T13:08:24.407-07:00Letting Go of "Perfection"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iAR8ZtHKpo/TYyofEwAj3I/AAAAAAAAArA/wIWD1fJ6eH0/s1600/letting-go-of-perfection.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iAR8ZtHKpo/TYyofEwAj3I/AAAAAAAAArA/wIWD1fJ6eH0/s200/letting-go-of-perfection.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588026489464459122" /></a><div>My relationship with a script is closer to a drunken one night stand than a long-term love affair. I finish the final draft the night before in a passionate haze, and wake up in the morning, bleary eyed, looking at a stranger I barely recognize and wondering what the hell I was thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, it's not surprising that this <a href="http://www.comicbookresources.com/?page=article&amp;id=31427">recent quote</a> from Matt Fraction really struck a chord with me:</div><div><blockquote><i>"The best comic I've ever written is the one I've just finished and the worst one is the one that just came out."</i></blockquote></div><div>I'm my own harshest critic. As much as I love a story, characters, or a bit of dialogue, as much as I may have been excited about a project when I started, eventually I'm going to hate it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some of this is the nature of comic book production, especially if you're self-publishing. By the time you've written it, had it penciled, inked, colored, lettered, printed--and gone over proofs at every stage--it's natural to be a little tired of it. But that's different than <i>hating</i> it.</div><div><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div>I was reminded of this phenomenon recently when Ryan Ottley burned his original <i>Invincible</i> art. Like many others who saw the pictures of the burning via Twitter, I was horrified at first. (OK, I'm still horrified.) But then I paused for a moment and realized I understood, at least a little. While I don't plan to ever burn my earlier work, I certainly have a hard time looking back at it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being critical of your own work, to a certain extent, is a good thing. It drives you to improve and to grow. But if you cross a certain line, it may actually <i>stop</i> your growth. It might even keep you from writing at all. </div><div><br /></div><div>In some ways, this is related to my colleague Paul Allor's <a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/only-goal-of-first-draft.html">article on first drafts</a>. If you get caught in an endless loop of revising but never finishing a first draft, you might have a "perfection" problem. But it's also different in that this sickness can infect your <i>completed </i>first draft, and every draft thereafter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Where does this come from? For me, it's about self-imposed pressure and fear of failure. I don't ever consciously think <i>"this has to be perfect before I consider it complete."</i> And I've never consciously thought <i>"oh, I better not let go of this script, because if it sucks, it'll prove once and for all that my goals are pipe dreams."</i> But somewhere, deep inside me, I know that's exactly how I feel.</div><div><br /></div><div>OK, that's a little pathetic. Let's move on. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, what can you do about this? Here's what's helped me.</div><div><ul><li><b>Learn to recognize the signs:</b> If you're somewhere north of your fifth or sixth major revision, and the story doesn't feel like it's improving, or if you're feeling less and less satisfied, you've probably crossed the line. Set a goal of doing one last read-through and <i>let the damn thing go</i>.</li><li><b>Get a second opinion:</b> Every writer should have a colleague or two they trust to take a final look at a piece. Hopefully, this person is not your relative or significant other. (Although if that works for you, more power to you.) Ideally, it's someone who also writes the sort of material you enjoy and can be brutally honest. You're not asking for a critique at this stage. You're just looking for a reality check. If those friends say it's solid, then <i>let the damn thing go</i>.</li><li><b>TRY to keep your perspective: </b>This is the hard one. But try to step back and realize that this one story is highly unlikely to make OR break your entire writing career. If you want to be a writer, you'll write many more stories. <i>It's just one story.</i> Make it the best you can, with a <i>reasonable</i> amount of work and revision, and then <i>let the damn thing go</i>.</li></ul></div><div>And when I say "<span style="font-style:italic;">let the damn thing go</span>," that doesn't mean put it in a drawer and move on to the next project that certainly...must...be...better. Let it <b>GO</b>. Post it on your website. Or find an artist. Or submit your pitch to publishers. <b><i>Let it out into the world.</i></b> There's a chance the world might not hate it as much as you do. Someone might even love it. You won't know if you don't try.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have all the answers. I still struggle with trying to make my work perfect, and then hating it for not being perfect. But I'm going to keep fighting. And you should, too.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Rob Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14856265820937612260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-25329288288898081652011-03-24T07:47:00.000-07:002011-03-24T11:53:45.957-07:00Finding the TimeWe're all desperately busy nowadays. &nbsp;What, with work, family, friends, children, it's a wonder we have any time to do anything short of schedule our self-imposed commitments in between our necessary commitments. &nbsp;Where does one find a shred of--I'm about to go full-on-new-age here--<u>me time</u>? &nbsp;The answer is really quite simple: you have to make it. <br /><br />I know, I know. &nbsp;You're probably saying, "No kidding, brainiac. &nbsp;Care to expand on that statement, and no I do not want to buy a timeshare after the seminar." &nbsp;No on the timeshare and I will gladly explain some changes that I have taken in my life to make writing and creating a priority.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a>For us creative types, the problem of finding the time is compounded by the fact that fatigue is a constant enemy. &nbsp;Fatigue is perseverant. &nbsp;Fatigue is crushing. &nbsp;Fatigue is...tireless, actually. &nbsp;More importantly, fatigue is compounded by the steady stream of obligations that we fulfill throughout the day. &nbsp;Here is an example of my weekdays from a year and a half ago: the alarm goes off, I curse the rising sun and everything in existence with the exception of my wife, I snooze until the last possible moment, I shower, shave, get dressed, wolf down some food, rush to the car, rush to work, become increasingly angry with other drivers, drink loads of coffee while at work, curse to myself at how much I hate work and how things will never change, take a lunch break where I wander around for an hour, give myself a high-five when the work day ends, exercise, go home, shower, make dinner, eat and watch TV. &nbsp;After all of this it's at least 9:00 PM and I would already be mad at the workday that looms tomorrow.&nbsp;&nbsp;I do not even have children to contend with and this is a full day. The last thing I can physically/mentally/emotionally do is sit at the computer and write my minimum of two pages per day as I mentioned in my <a href="http://www.thebrutalcircle.com/2011/03/everything-i-learned-about-writing-my.html">earlier post</a>.<br /><br />For&nbsp;the first two drafts of my novel, I would write on lunch breaks and at night after my wife had gone to sleep, but the nighttime writing proved difficult and I oftentimes found myself facedown on the desk with gibberish lining the page. &nbsp;The lunchtime writing was working, but that had to end when we got the puppy, who I then had to take out during lunch. &nbsp;I would not trade my dog for the world, but with the exhaustion I felt at night, writing was becoming more difficult. &nbsp;Luckily, I came across an article from <a href="http://lifehacker.com/">lifehacker.com</a> that detailed something I believe was called time-shifting. <br /><br />Essentially, the author of the article found himself in the same position that I was in, with no time or energy to work on his own important and meaningful projects. &nbsp;He eventually became frustrated enough to adjust the way he lived his life. &nbsp;Instead of getting up late&nbsp;and going to bed late, he began to awaken at 6:00 AM and shortly after that 5:00 AM and he went to sleep earlier every night. &nbsp;His day involved rising, going for a run, showering, getting dressed, eating and by that point it was a little after 6:00 AM and he had a couple of hours and, more importantly, a fresh mind to work on the the projects that he cared about. &nbsp;By 8:45 AM he was off to earn the rent and deal with the necessities of life, but he did so with a sense of accomplishment. &nbsp;I loved this idea.<br /><br />So, for the past year and a half, I wake up early in the morning and hit the computer to work on my books, comic books, coloring and lettering, and blog. &nbsp;It...was...not...easy. &nbsp;Not in the slightest. &nbsp;I was a mess for the first two weeks, but now I am so used to rising early and getting things done, that I can't imagine&nbsp;sleeping in late. &nbsp;I honestly want to get up and work on the creative projects that fulfill me and not waste my important time lounging around in bed.&nbsp;&nbsp;After the morning, my day is the same as before, with work and&nbsp;exercise, but the night is spent talking with my wife, playing with the dog and reading until I can't keep my eyes open, then off early to bed. <br /><br />I still&nbsp;curse the moment I have to hop in the car to head to work, but I do so with thoughts and ideas of what my writing&nbsp;will bring tomorrow, and for the first time in a very long time, I go to sleep excited for the morning to come.<br /><br />If you have a method that works for you and allows you to effectively work on your projects, please let me know; I would love to hear what you have to say.<br /><br />UPDATE:&nbsp; I found the original Lifehacker.com article.&nbsp; You can read it <a href="http://lifehacker.com/#!5501193/what-time-do-you-wake-up">here</a>.Don McMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871624966586083665noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-34155194775781186932011-03-23T01:13:00.000-07:002011-03-23T08:03:10.949-07:00So Whatever Became Of The Muses?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It happens almost every time.&nbsp;You’re attending a book signing by one of your favorite authors, or maybe you’re listening to her speak on a panel at a con.&nbsp;She’s been entertaining, thought provoking… maybe even inspirational.&nbsp;You can’t wait to have her sign your copy of her latest novel.</span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But before that can occur, there’s the Q&amp;A with the audience.&nbsp;A forest of raised hands goes up.&nbsp;People get called upon.&nbsp;And that’s when it happens: Someone, at some point, asks the question, “Where do you get your ideas?”</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a name='more'></a></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I don’t know that I’ve ever heard a great answer, at least not one that would help a person come up with their own story ideas.&nbsp;Because that’s what I suspect most of the people asking the question really want to know: They’re folks who want to be writers, they feel the need to fill up the blank page… they just can’t figure out what they should put down on it.&nbsp;That’s the situation I was in when I first thought about writing stories, anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The answers you do get are usually pretty vague. "Anywhere." "Everywhere."&nbsp;Harlan Ellison got&nbsp;so tired of the question he began telling people he got his ideas from a company in Schenectady, New York.&nbsp;(Amazingly, some of them took him seriously and tried to hunt down the company.)&nbsp;I once heard Richard Matheson talk about how </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>The Incredible Shrinking Man</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">&nbsp;came about when he put on a hat he thought was his own, only to find it was several sizes too big.&nbsp;But even that terrific and specific anecdote doesn’t seem very generalizable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Looking back, I think much of the frustration I had trying to come up with story ideas came from misconceptions about how the creative process worked.&nbsp;You remember those little foam dinosaurs they used to sell?&nbsp;You’d get something that looked like a smashed salamander, but when you put it in water it would swell up into a giant sponge brontosaurus.&nbsp;Well, I used to think coming up with a story idea meant waiting for that salamander to appear in your mind.&nbsp;Once you got it, the story was all right there, just in miniaturized form.&nbsp;All you had to do then was expand on it, and a full-fledged novel or screenplay would be the end result.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I spent a lot of time waiting for that salamander to show.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now, for some lucky writers it really does work that way.&nbsp;It must be thrilling, to get that zing! of a Eureka moment, to feel like you’ve captured lightning in a bottle, all in a flash.&nbsp;But when I try to develop a story I usually don’t get very far coming up with One Big Idea.&nbsp;I have to come up with lots of ideas, and figure out how they’ll all fit together to create the larger tale.&nbsp;Instead of growing the dinosaur with water, it’s like trying to chisel the dinosaur’s fossilized skeleton out of a sandstone cliff, one bone at a time, and figuring out how they’ll all fit together at the end.&nbsp;No single idea is the story all by itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But then how do you know when an idea could work as <i>part</i> of a story?&nbsp;This takes practice, but your brain will let you know, in its own way.&nbsp;You’ve just got to pay attention.&nbsp;Maybe you saw something on the news that you can’t stop thinking about.&nbsp;Or maybe there’s a single image that keeps popping up in your daydreams, the way James Cameron once visualized a metallic skeleton dragging itself along the ground, when he was sick one night (<i>Terminator</i>).&nbsp;That’s your brain’s way of telling you it wants to play with an idea.&nbsp;The idea might not be perfect in its original form – you might have to tweak it, reshape it, or even turn it inside out – but the fact your brain wants to do something with it is a clue that on some level, it knows there’s an answer there.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Once the idea is in proper shape, you’ve got to figure out how it fits into your story.&nbsp;This is where all that time you spent learning about the elements of story structure pays off; that knowledge will be the scaffolding on which you can mount your brontosaurus.&nbsp;Is the idea you have related to plot, character, or theme?&nbsp;Once you know, you can put the idea into its proper place, and not waste lots of time trying to put a thigh bone where a rib should be.&nbsp;Knowledge of structure will also give you a better sense of what you need to work on next: You might have enough ideas to create a complete character arc, for example, yet not have enough to make for a compelling plot.&nbsp;But if you keep going through the process, unearthing bone after bone, coming up with idea after idea, you’ll eventually put together your massive beast.&nbsp;All the hard work will pay off when you can stand back, and allow people into the exhibit hall to gaze upon your creation.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And you won’t have to have bought a thing from that company in Schenectady.</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Frederick Kimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07610339388347782000noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-22538083387380262322011-03-22T22:32:00.000-07:002011-03-23T19:32:38.441-07:00Things I Have Learned About Writing Through a Lifetime of Improv: Part 1When I was twelve I joined an after school improv club. For a hyper fat kid without many friends and his hours spent watching Kids in the Hall and horror movies it was everything I needed. Those random jokes I would make in class that earned me sneers from any girl I might of had a crush on or black and blue marks from the bullies when the teacher turned to write on the board had quite the opposite reaction onstage. I found one of my callings in that after school club. It wasn’t picked back up the following year and I actually had to wait until my senior year of high school to get another chance at that stage but when I did I embarked on one of the greatest chapters of my life that also prepared me surprisingly well for my other calling; writing.<br /><a name='more'></a><br />Improv is a form of theater in which a show is created as it is being performed. I exclusively did short form back then. Short form is what you see on the show Whose Line Is It Anyway? Quick theater games that call on the performers to go for quick jokes. Short form is usually what you perform when hired for various events. At least in my case. One of the fundamental ideas of improv, something I picked up from my classes at Second City, is that your job on stage is to make your scene partner look good and your scene partner‘s job is to make sure you look good. Pretty much like the creative team of a comic book. The writer writes to the artist’s strengths, the artist brings the writer’s words to life, and the editor makes sure that everyone works to the height of their abilities and turn the work in on time of course.<br /><br />Another good lesson from Second City was the notion of letting things go. When you start a scene you have a clear idea in your head where you want it to go. The problem with this is that you share the stage with someone who is also plotting how this scene will go. What results is a combination of ideas which produce something that neither performer had intended and in some cases didn‘t know they were capable of. This is not unlike comic books where the writer can write the word “dog” into a script and think of their poodle when they do it while the artist will read the word “dog” and picture their Labrador. A finished comic book should, in my opinion, end up being the result of two creative minds coming together to produce something awesome.<br /><br />Now there is a rule to improv. Something drilled into your head from day one. It is known as Yes and. This golden rule ensures that your scene will have structure and direction. In what is known as long form improv an entire show is created from a suggestion from the audience. There are different techniques and ways to perform long form but for the sake of simplicity I am going to stick with two person scenes. The first thing that happens is that the players get a suggestion from the audience. With the suggestion given you take to the stage and initiate a clear action. For this scene your clear action is to mimic the twirling of pizza dough. Your scene partner recognizes that you are twirling pizza dough (this is the yes part of Yes and) and responds by pretending to fold pizza boxes (which would be the and). What has happened here is that you made the decision to be someone preparing a pizza and your scene partner decided that by folding pizza boxes that the scene is taking place in a pizzeria and the two of you are employees of said pizzeria. Basically Yes and is simply agreeing with what has been introduced into a scene and then adding to it. When it comes to dialogue the response is the same. You remark that business is slow tonight and your scene partner responds “Yes it is slow tonight and it is slow because everyone is at the big concert”. From here the Yes and goes back to you and you add that you wish you were at the concert and the Yes and passes back to your scene partner and so on until the scene ends. Every line builds on the other, fleshes the scene out further, and leads toward a conclusion. I keep this in mind with every thing I write. Does it count? Does it help develop the characters? Does it drive the characters onto the next page and then to the next scene? Cause it should.<br /><br />Spring of 1999. I am backstage at a Wilton, Connecticut middle school checking on a performer who was feeling ill. The school was putting on some sort of festival for the kids with different presentations for them to check out. We started in the gymnasium but were moved to the auditorium because the kids were skipping out on the other presentations and coming to see us. So I’m backstage and I hear the MC tell the packed house that “for our next game we’re going to bring out Billy”. The audience goes nuts and starts chanting my name like I was Rudy.&nbsp; I’m in shock. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. I step out from behind the curtain and the crowd erupts in applause and cheering. I am currently existing in one of the greatest moments of my life. Now there’s no real connection to writing here but I figured I would include something that countered the misery of my childhood that I expressed in my introduction.<br /><br />There’s quite a bit I haven’t covered yet and I think I will keep it that way for now. I have been involved with improv in some form or another for the past eighteen years of my life so there is a lot to cover. Yes I do believe I will write future pieces on my improv experiences and I hope you find them insightful where the writing lessons are involved or at the very least entertaining.Bill Yurkasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-77942633213725454522011-03-21T03:00:00.000-07:002011-03-21T04:38:27.394-07:00The Only Goal of a First Draft<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">If you’re a writer struggling with your first draft, I have great news for you:<br /><br />Quality doesn’t matter.<br /><br />Don’t get me wrong. Quality will matter – a lot – down the road. But right now, at this pinpoint in time, this exact moment – as you struggle and scramble to whip your first draft into shape – as <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jejoAXwYgYc/TYc3lIE88VI/AAAAAAAAACM/8y7sJBrECA0/s1600/typewriter.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586494973739331922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jejoAXwYgYc/TYc3lIE88VI/AAAAAAAAACM/8y7sJBrECA0/s320/typewriter.JPG" /></a>you sweat and shake and feel like smashing your computer against the wall – as you glare at the books on your shelves, wondering how they do it, all those talented, successful, <u>published</u> bastards – as you look for advice and inspiration through your writing books, and find none – as you convince yourself that you have no talent, and never did, and never will, no matter how hard you try – as you flip back through old files, old pages, muttering to yourself, “crap, crap, crap, more crap” –as you practice writing exercises, futilely searching for some breakthrough that you know, just know, will never come – at this moment – this moment here – this moment now – Quality. Doesn’t. Matter.<br /><br />So what does matter? </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;"><a name='more'></a><br />Completion. The only goal of a first draft is to complete it. If you put in some nice dialogue, great. If you build a solid structure for future drafts, great. If you have some decent characterizations, a tight plot, a sweet turn of phrase, great, great, great. But those are ancillary benefits, separate from your goal.<br /><br />And the chase for those ancillary benefits lead many a writer to abandon first draft after first draft, halfway through. If only they realized that quality doesn’t matter. It’s a first draft. It’s not <u><strong>supposed</strong></u> to be perfect. And by completing it, you’ve already done more than 99.9 percent of people who call themselves writers ever accomplish.<br /><br />Later, I’ll write more about techniques for completing your first drafts, and about the ever-important revising phase. But this post isn’t about craft, or technique. This post is about reminding you that first drafts are about completion, not quality.<br /><br />By the way, I’ve written this post straight through, with no revisions. This is a first draft. It’s the only first draft I will ever post on this blog. But I wanted to make a point. Glancing over it, I think it’s crap. But you know what? Quality doesn’t matter. I <u>completed</u> it. And that’s what matters.<br /><br />Now go complete <u>your</u> first draft. </span></div>Paul Allorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09162114643679897817noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-58713085758289413252011-03-19T13:12:00.000-07:002011-03-18T13:44:30.867-07:00Everything I Learned About Writing My First Novel I Learned from J.M.S.<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mycomicshop.com/search?TID=219451&amp;AffID=644543P01" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SKcFLBdMmU0/TYLXQOg8AsI/AAAAAAAAAQA/xPus8WH1xDI/s200/Micronauts+11.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">Okay.&nbsp; Not entirely true, but after attending a panel from J.M. Straczynski at the 2008 San Diego Comic Convention (SDCC) there is a ring of truth to the title of this post.&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;For most of my life I have been interested in art and writing, comics and science fiction, horror and adventure.&nbsp; Godzilla was my Mr. Rogers, the Legion of Superheroes my Sesame Street, The Micronauts my favorite babysitter; let’s just say I was an odd kid.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">I spent my time absorbed in distant fantasy realms ruled by diabolical despots and obsessed over quests to rescue abducted princesses and recover lost treasures of immense power.&nbsp; In the real world,</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">this translated to getting whatever girl I was crushing on to acknowledge my existence, somehow avoiding my grade school tormentors and convincing my mother to buy me a set of nunchucks.&nbsp; For the record, none of my efforts paid off—that is another story—but this meant that I spent my time drawing my favorite superheroes and eventually flirted with the notion of writing a book; I never made it past chapter four.&nbsp; </span><br /><a name='more'></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">The book was a semi-autobiographical spoof on myself that immediately became bogged down in revision after revision.&nbsp; I toiled over the proper phrasing of sentences and spent so much time rewriting the same chapters that I never moved forward and never completed the damn thing.&nbsp; I gave up.&nbsp;&nbsp; Whatever genetic material goes into the making of a writer, I was missing the stuff.&nbsp; I shelved the project and returned to reading about fantasy worlds instead of constructing them.&nbsp; Then came July 2008 and the SDCC.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mycomicshop.com/search?TID=686551&amp;AffID=644543P01" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-88ZIuA6X47E/TYLWarSbsmI/AAAAAAAAAP8/2qkjShjBG5E/s200/Supreme+Power.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">I had attended the SDCC the previous year and had the system down, with J.M. Straczynski’s panel on </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">Professional Writing: Threat or Menace </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">my top priority.&nbsp; I was a huge fan of his </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">Supreme Power</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;"> series and believed I was attending a lecture about his other works and experiences, but the panel turned out to be advice for writers.&nbsp; That hour changed my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">I was expecting to learn if Hyperion could beat up Superman or not, but instead I received a message of “Writers write” and “Write what you love and write for yourself.”&nbsp; </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">Fair enough,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;"> I thought, trying to spackle up this fresh crack in the foundation of my resistance and to return to the doubt that has plagued my creative endeavors.&nbsp; J.M.S. had my attention.&nbsp; He spoke about writing a first novel.&nbsp; </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">A book?&nbsp; But those are hundreds of pages long, no one can do that.&nbsp; I know. I tried.&nbsp; </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, when Straczynski razed everything I believed. “Write two pages a day, every day, for one year and you will have written a novel and a half worth of material.”&nbsp; There it was. &nbsp;Spelled out and quantifiable.&nbsp; 400 to 500 pages always seemed an insurmountable task, but two pages a day…that was doable. &nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.hollisterbrewco.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-AL7L8TF7QOo/TYOoKwfFfzI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/MlK56N0acmQ/s200/fries.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">A week later, with J.M.S.’s words still resonating, I went to lunch with a pad of paper, a pen, ordered a couple of beers and began developing characters, a problematic situation and a world to house it all.&nbsp; The week after my beer-fueled brainstorming session I began my two-pages a day, until nine months later (yes, I see the parallels here) I had completed the first draft of my first novel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">I do not want to give the impression that my first book is any good; in fact, it could be terrible. The point is that writing a first novel, although intimidating at first glance, does not need to be a Herculean task.&nbsp; For me, all I needed was a change in perspective and the unreachable became the attainable.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">Sure my first draft was a mess; I assume most are. &nbsp;That’s okay.&nbsp; That’s why second, third and possibly further drafts exist.&nbsp; The main accomplishment, the completion of a novel—hundreds of pages of a novel—was achieved. &nbsp;And you know what?&nbsp; It wasn’t that difficult.&nbsp; It was only a matter of setting my mind to the task and sticking to the goal; the practice soon became a pleasant habit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">There were days that writing two pages felt like I was extracting my own teeth, but then there were days I could have written ten pages and did.&nbsp; Nine short months and something I thought impossible and best left to the Kings and Rowlings I had accomplished.&nbsp;&nbsp; Come to think of it, I had progressed further than most self-described writers.&nbsp; You know who I’m talking about, those who prattle on and on about the art of writing and how they have some ideas brewing, yet they have never produced a single work whether it be a novel, novella, screenplay, comic book or what have you.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">I wrote a novel. Hell, if I could do it once, I could do it again and again.&nbsp; Maybe the next novel will practically write itself now that the weight and fear of the task has already been conquered. &nbsp;Anyone with the drive and the desire could do this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif;">So, thank you, J.M.S.&nbsp; Thank you for the wonderful lecture and for sparking something that I had buried and refused to acknowledge for the past twenty years. I would have never done it without you.&nbsp; I love writing and feel like something is missing on those days that I do not hammer out my two or more pages. Writers write, but sometimes a little perspective is needed to get the process started.</span></div>Don McMillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871624966586083665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-19155244419017746702011-03-18T12:31:00.000-07:002011-03-18T13:43:35.638-07:00Deconstructing Alan Moore - Plotting in Top 10<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ytaovi741ME/TYO4W-wFzbI/AAAAAAAAApA/Q3JoF7rxniY/s1600/mTop10_01.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ytaovi741ME/TYO4W-wFzbI/AAAAAAAAApA/Q3JoF7rxniY/s320/mTop10_01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585510667810885042" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >In December of 2010, I attended a lecture by Paul Levitz at the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) on "The Long and Short of Plotting." Levitz offered a number of tools to help writers improve their plotting skills, including something he called a <span style="font-weight:bold;">Rising and Falling Subplots Chart</span>.<br /><br />Levitz suggested that writers deconstruct other people's stories as a learning exercise, so I decided to use the Subplots Chart to analyze the plot of Alan Moore and Gene Ha's <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Top 10</span></span>, published by America's Best Comics/Wildstorm in 1999.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Top 10</span> followed police officers working in the city of Neopolis where nearly everyone--the criminals, the citizens, and even the mice--had superpowers. From a blind cabby who drove using only his Zen senses to the dog running roll call, Moore and Ha created a madcap universe that the reader could still take somewhat seriously.<br /><br />My personal goal with this plot deconstruction exercise was to better understand how Moore timed his various storylines in the 12-issue miniseries. But, hopefully, you'll find something useful in the approach that you can apply to your own stories. <a name='more'></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4FbP5wcP3gg/TYO8mu0BZkI/AAAAAAAAApw/WnAWxdbRSng/s1600/rollcall2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4FbP5wcP3gg/TYO8mu0BZkI/AAAAAAAAApw/WnAWxdbRSng/s320/rollcall2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585515336456824386" /></a>As a bit of background, according to Levitz, you want your sub-plots to RISE until they become the MAIN ACTION, then RESOLVE (perhaps with an epilogue), while you simultaneously have other plots rising at different paces. You don't want stories rising and falling at the same pace. Just using random numbers to illustrate this concept, you might have one story moving at a smooth 1, 2, 3 speed, while another progresses as 1, 2, 2.5, but then jumps to 5. Pace may also vary depending on the content of the subplot--for example, a romance subplot might build more slowly than one involving a speeding bus.<br /><br />Let's see how that plays out in <span style="font-style:italic;">Top 10</span>, shall we?<br /><br />In the chart below, I’ve listed all the subplots going down the left side, and the issues across the top. Yellow cells indicate the most important developments in that particular issue. For purposes of this discussion, only the first five issues are shown, and I’ve removed the specific page number references (which tend to not progress sequentially for many of the plots and make the chart hard to view).<br /><br /><CENTER><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MtbROq_s1uw/TYO-ilCRIbI/AAAAAAAAAp4/CkshJ64Q0g0/s1600/subplotschart.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 203px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3tqi2ELs2hs/TYPCZ4LjSbI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/ETaeFl69lsk/s400/subplotschartLG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585521712702900658" /></a>(Click chart for more detailed view.)</CENTER><br />As you can see, Moore had three main storylines, and they did indeed move at different paces. The overarching storyline of the 12-issue miniseries--that begins with the Tintown homicide--takes the majority of the first two issues to establish the basics, but then goes on a slow burn, taking only one full page in issue 5 as the other plots heat up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HfWxkCWzfsM/TYO40GVhJgI/AAAAAAAAApI/1k6-wUIbN5g/s1600/mTop10_04.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HfWxkCWzfsM/TYO40GVhJgI/AAAAAAAAApI/1k6-wUIbN5g/s320/mTop10_04.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585511168063120898" /></a>A second major thread--the Green Gang led by the punk son of a Godzilla-like character--moves the fastest. After only being hinted at in issue #1, it reaches a cliffhanger by issue #3, and peaks in issue 4.<br /><br />Overlapping both stories is the Libra Killer storyline, which takes center stage in issue #3, hits its cliffhanger in #4 (at the same time the Green Gang story resolves), and then itself resolves in issue #5, just as another subplot, involving Super-Mice, is introduced.<br /><br />So, we have three main storylines, two of which resolve in the first five issues, while the overarching storyline continues its slow burn, with issue-by-issue revelations.<br /><br />There were a few other points worth noting:<br /></span><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-weight:bold;">INTRODUCTIONS:</span> Issue 1, at 32 pages, used all of its extra space to introduce the world and the main characters through the eyes of the rookie, Toybox, experiencing her first day on the job. This storyline acted as a "wrapper," and was the main focus of the first 8 pages, as well as the last two.</span></li><span class="Apple-style-span" ></span><li><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-weight:bold;">DENSITY:</span> I remembered that the plot of <span style="font-style:italic;">Top 10</span> was fairly dense, but the number of subplots introduced in the first few pages was still amazing. In pages 6 through 9 of issue #1, Moore mentions seven different plot threads, and every one of those threads had at least a panel or two of additional reference in the first issue (listed as "partials," if less than a page). Even the "Ghostly Goose on the loose" story gets panels on pages 6, 25, and 28 of issue #1 and reappears in issues #2, 3, and 5.</span></li><span class="Apple-style-span" ></span><li><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-weight:bold;">COHESIVE PLOTS:</span> A number of these seemingly separate plots later converge into the main story arcs, but that's not obvious as the story begins. For example, in issue #2, the subplot involving the Zen Cabby appears to be simply a secondary story, but on the last page the Cabby leads the officers to the missing sidekick of the central murder victim. However, not every subplot leads back to the main murder storyline, leaving the reader guessing as to which subplots are related.</span></li><span class="Apple-style-span" ></span><li><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-weight:bold;">CONCURRENT PROGRESSION:</span> The other interesting point was how often multiple plot threads were moving simultaneously, one inside another; rarely was a scene or exchange used for only one purpose. This one factor makes the Subplot Chart a vast oversimplification. For example, on pages 12-13 of issue #1, while the officers are checking the homicide scene (moving the main storyline of issue #1 forward as they hunt for clues), the officers are also discussing Smax's past with his dead partner, introducing new characters, showing Toybox's power, and more.</span></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-style:italic;">Top 10</span>’s structure is similar to an ensemble police drama. The structure lends itself to quick cuts between multiple storylines, while the device of the morning Roll Call allows references to many plots in passing. Still, the execution here is very impressive. When you add in the world building elements, the sharp dialogue, the fascinating ideas, and the beautiful, detailed artwork of Gene Ha, you have a stand-out miniseries, and a great example of how to handle multiple characters and plots.<br /><br />I guess we expect no less from Alan Moore.<br /></span>Rob Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14856265820937612260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-13624879567870407292011-03-17T03:00:00.000-07:002011-03-17T04:56:35.294-07:00Race in Comics: A Few Guidelines<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span>I’ve been thinking a lot, recently, about race in comics. I’m currently working on a project <img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HobQVtG7MWY/TYGS0WKigGI/AAAAAAAAACE/rEh4glFH8lw/s320/ClockworkD03aR02aP01ZL.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 90px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584906440916762722" />called <i>Clockwork,</i> which will consist of around 25 five-page stories, all written by me and drawn by different artists. I’ve received final art on 15 stories so far, and in those 15 stories, nearly every single character is white (except the robots and aliens and gorilla-pirates, but you know what I'm saying). <a name='more'></a><br /><br />What's interesting about this is that I didn't specify, in any of my scripts, what race the characters should be. And I'm working with artists from all over the world.<br /><br />I'm certainly not faulting the artists for this. Quite the opposite. As the publisher, editor and writer on this project, the burden would fall 100 percent upon me to ensure a diverse cast.<br /><br />Looking through my past (unpublished) scripts, I see that it isn’t always this way. On longer stories, I do tend to include more diverse casts, more reflective of the folks I’ve been around in my life. But with my Clockwork stories, that didn’t happen. They’re very short stories, so maybe that’s why. They’re heavily genre based, so that could also be a factor. Whatever the reason, I allowed my brain to go on cruise control when it came to casting, and I ended up with a bunch of "race-undefined" characters, with the end result of a very white cast.<br /><br />So, it’s quite possible this problem is limited to just this one project, and would fix itself when I returned to more long-form storytelling. But at the very least I'm glad I started thinking about it and becoming more aware of it now.<br /><br />And while thinking about it, I came up with a few guidelines to help ensure that comics worlds more accurately reflect our world, when it comes to diversity. I’m sharing them here in the hopes that others might find them helpful:<br /><br /><b>Don’t let “white” be the default</b><br />Recognize the fact that if you don’t think about race, you are are most likely “choosing” an all-white cast. This doesn’t necessarily mean you need to specify every single character’s race in every single script you write. That might get a little weird. But it’s something to think about with your main characters, and at the very least it’s something to discuss with artists: talk over the setting and the storytelling demands, and see how they’d like to handle it.<br /><br /><b>Reflect the reality of your setting</b><br />If you’re writing a story that takes place in rural Montana, or the United States Senate, then okay, most of your characters will be white. But if you’re wr<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PKUh3049WL0/TX_hedgWcTI/AAAAAAAAABs/_H8-CtX5P1k/s1600/Senate.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584429976395346226" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PKUh3049WL0/TX_hedgWcTI/AAAAAAAAABs/_H8-CtX5P1k/s320/Senate.jpg" /></a>iting a story that takes place in San Antonio, or Detroit, or even Minneapolis, then in the interest of reality, your cast should “look like” those communities.<br /><br />There are some great examples of this on television. The cast of <i>Dexter</i> looks like Miami, and the cast of <i>The Wire</i> looks like Baltimore. There are also some very bad examples of this on television. The show <i>Monk</i> took place in San Francisco, but in all the years it was on the air, I only recall seeing one Asian character: the owner of a dry cleaner. Which brings me to the next one …<br /><br /><b>If you only have one minority, don’t make him/her a stereotype</b><br />Or, as comics writer/letterer Ed Brisson tweeted a while back, “Dear white comic writers: If you have only one non-white character in your comic, it's a bad idea to make them a thug.”<br /><br />And obviously, none of your characters should be a true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool stereotype. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gqhMMXG57gQ/TX_iCJRyl7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/Dt98stElnf0/s1600/The%2BWire.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584430589440858034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gqhMMXG57gQ/TX_iCJRyl7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/Dt98stElnf0/s320/The%2BWire.jpg" /></a>Consider, again, the case of <i>The Wire</i>. With such a heavily African-American cast, no one would look askance at the fact that the show featured a lot of black gangbangers. But in addition, none of these characters were stereotypes, or one-dimensional thugs. These gang members -- like Stringer Bell, D’Angelo Barksdale, Wallace, Bodie, Marlo Stanfield, Snoop, and on and on and on – were extraordinarily rich and complex characters.<br /><br /><b>Be conscientious about making comics that reflect reality, but relax</b><br />This is kind of the “anti-rule.” Diversity is something you should keep in mind, and work to achieve. But it shouldn’t overwhelm your storytelling choices. If one story or one issue has a white cast, and it makes sense in the story, then that’s alright. Don’t work to cram in minorities, to the point where it’s transparent tokenism. To judge whether you’re writing stories that reflect reality, look at your body of work as a whole, rather than zeroing in on one story.<br /><br />So, those are some of my thoughts. I’d be interested in hearing what others think. Writers, how do you handle diversity in your scripts? Artists, if you get a script that doesn’t specify race, how do you approach it? Please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts in the comments. </span></span>Paul Allorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09162114643679897817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-54183031253852111512011-03-16T06:00:00.000-07:002011-03-16T06:08:45.717-07:00World-Building: The Three Key Elements<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When it comes to fiction, even the most hyper-realistic story takes place in a world completely unlike our own. That’s<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_2A04jiBvYg/TX_fo1UIu1I/AAAAAAAAABc/PsC5DDatv0g/s1600/world.jpg"></a> simply the<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9jF5zU6B-d4/TYC2T9U1p1I/AAAAAAAAAB8/05Kv_-oGMfE/s1600/world2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584663991935149906" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9jF5zU6B-d4/TYC2T9U1p1I/AAAAAAAAAB8/05Kv_-oGMfE/s320/world2.jpg" /></a> nature of storytelling. Life gets compressed, stretched and shaped. Even the most richly-drawn character is a mere shadow when compared to the complexity of man.<br /><br />Viewed one way, this is a limitation. But viewed another way, it’s a tremendous advantage. It’s this constraint that makes world-building possible; people don’t go into a fictional story expecting reality, and so their minds are more open to extraordinary possibilities. And because this world-building is so fundamental, it can make or break your story.<br /><br />So, what makes for good world-building? <a name='more'></a>In my mind, there are three key elements. At it’s best, world-building is continuous, well-paced, and consistent.<br /><br />1. Continuous<br /><br />Too often, writers treat world-building as a single step rather than a continual process. They set up the world in the first few episodes or issues, and then move on to the plot. But world-building and plot should not be treated as separate entities. Rather, they should be integrally connected. The stories that do the best world-building are the ones where we are continually learning new things about the world. We're constantly discovering new rules, new social stratifications, new levels to the society our characters inhabit.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o7zQcCkCs2g/TX_ea81JkPI/AAAAAAAAABE/dVS7Al4BsBI/s1600/Threekeys.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 228px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584426617549721842" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o7zQcCkCs2g/TX_ea81JkPI/AAAAAAAAABE/dVS7Al4BsBI/s320/Threekeys.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The comic book Locke &amp; Key (written by Joe Hill with art by Gabriel Rodriguez) is a great example of this. It’s one hell of a book, and one of the reasons I think it's so great and so compelling is that the structure is designed for constant world-building. For those who aren't familiar with it, the story involves a set of keys that have different magical properties. The characters discovered at least one new magical key in each of the first three arcs. As a result, the world was continually built out, becoming more and more complex, more and more richly drawn. And in the current (fourth) arc, the characters have discovered a ton of new keys, exponentially increasing our knowledge of this world and its possibilities.<br /><br />If you’re story doesn’t have continuous world building built into its DNA like Locke &amp; Key, you should work that much harder to ensure that the reader is constantly discovering new and exciting things about your universe. The reader should never lose his or her sense of wonder, now matter how deep you are<br />into your story.<br /><br />2. Well-paced<br /><br />Even when the world-building is continuous, the revelations and new information can sometimes be poorly paced, dictated by the writer’s inclination or by marketing considerations, rather than by the organic needs of the story.<br /><br />The television critic Alan Sepinwall once made an interesting point about Lost and Battlestar Galactica. He pointed out that the producers of Lost claimed to be working off of some grand master-plan, but everyone assumed they were making it up as they went along. Meanwhile, the producers of Battlestar Galactica openly admitted they were making it up as they went along, but everyone assumed they were working off of some grand master-plan. I think the difference was that BSG did a much better job with the pace of its world-building, which created the illusion that it was carefully planned out in advance.<br /><br />And it’s important to note that “well-paced” does not mean “fast-paced.” Consider the comic book Sweet Tooth, written and drawn by Jeff Lemire. Mr. Lemire is doing a very slow reveal on the story's central mystery -- who is Sweet Tooth and how does his origin tie in to this world's mysterious apocalypse? – </span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W168YySU_dY/TX_epWQXgkI/AAAAAAAAABM/BXN4x_Oi__o/s1600/Jake-Ellis.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 246px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584426864892936770" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W168YySU_dY/TX_epWQXgkI/AAAAAAAAABM/BXN4x_Oi__o/s320/Jake-Ellis.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">but he's also giving us lot of other information about how this society works, what the different factions are, and what has become of our civilization in this plague-ridden world.<br /><br />Another good example is Who Is Jake Ellis, written by Nathan Edmondson with art by Tonci Zonjic. As of this writing, only two issues have come out, but those two issues have handled the pacing extremely well. Issue #1 gave us just enough information about the world to intrigue us, and to pull us in to the story. Then issue #2 dropped one bombshell after another, letting us in on a ton of new information, while still leaving plenty of mysteries for the rest of the mini-series’ run.<br /><br />3. Consistent<br /><br />This one’s pretty obvious. There are very few things more frustrating than a book that creates a world, then breaks the rules of that world just to expedite the story. So: don’t do that! It’s all about carefully establishing your rules, then sticking with the decisions you’ve made.<br /><br />This is a tough thing to do, especially if your story isn’t planned out from the beginning. And, of course, you can always find loopholes, or even bend the rules a bit. But that’s risky, and you’re walking a fine line. If given a choice, I would err on the side of greater consistency over greater flexibility.<br /><br />Consider, also, that consistency – and the rules you establish – can be used as a positive storytelling device. Cons</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YQZ9uPdx4aw/TX_e9G9MI4I/AAAAAAAAABU/Q__hw8ocX-8/s1600/Venom.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584427204383351682" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YQZ9uPdx4aw/TX_e9G9MI4I/AAAAAAAAABU/Q__hw8ocX-8/s320/Venom.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">ider the new Venom mini-series, which just debuted last week. In it, the military is using the Venom symbiote (a classic Spider-Man villain) as a sort of battle armor. But they establish several rules early on in the book: their operative can only wear the suit for two hours at a time, or risk becoming permanently bonded to it; their operative can only wear the suit a maximum of 25 times; and if the symbiote ever takes control, the military will flip a “kill switch” on the operative.<br /><br />This is excellent world-building! By staying consistent to these rules, the creators have built in a high degree of tension and suspense. Will the operative make it back from his mission in two hours? How quick will the military be to flip the kill switch? When that 25th mission approaches, will the operative decide that he’d prefer to permanently bond with the symbiote?<br /><br />On the other hand, if the book is inconsistent – if it betrays the rules of this particular world – all of that tension, and all of that suspense will instantly drain away. It will feel like a betrayal.<br /><br />So, those are the three key elements of world-building, as I see them: continuous; well-paced; consistent. What do you think? Am I completely off-base? Did I forget any? Please don’t hesitate to add your thoughts in the comments. </span></div>Paul Allorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09162114643679897817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-10508761855019971832011-03-15T09:36:00.000-07:002011-03-15T11:38:47.665-07:00Knight & Squire: A study of structure<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">T<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-loyOhKYyAAs/TX-lqNsCCSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/X-J7JuBOkXk/s1600/Knight-Squire.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584364207610136866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-loyOhKYyAAs/TX-lqNsCCSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/X-J7JuBOkXk/s320/Knight-Squire.jpg" /></a>he final issue of Kn<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0jr9iXZ_xNU/TX-kMFn1XvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/_hCGDzw5NCI/s1600/Knight-Squire.jpg"></a>ight &amp; Squire comes out today. In the first five issues, this book has gone from a lighthearted diversion to an absolute, can-hardly-wait, top-of-the-stack read.<br /><br />There are many great things about this series, but one of the most interesting is the overall story structure. It is rather unorthodox, but extremely effective. Let’s examine this structure a bit, in preparation for the final issue.<br /><br />(Fair warning: this post will contain a bevy of plot points, or “spoilers,” as the kids like to call them. If you haven’t been reading this series, I strongly recommend you stop here, then call your local comic shop and pre-order the trade. Trust me. You’ll be glad you did … okay. Is it just us? Good).<br /><a name='more'></a><br />We’ll go issue by issue, and break down how writer Paul Cornell and artist Jimmy Broxton lulled us into such a false sense of security, creating an idyllic superhero world and then shattering it in the powerful final pages of issue five.<br /><br /><b>Issue 1:</b><br /><br />Taken by itself, this issue was – let’s be honest – <u>odd</u>. It was almost defiantly plotless, and was essentially an issue-length set-piece of Knight &amp; Squire hanging out in a bar – excuse me, a <u>pub</u> – with various other heroes and villains. We were introduced to a ridiculous number of new characters, most with a heavily British slant (for example, the First Eleven is a Cricket-themed crime cartel with branches in India, Australia and the West Indies. But, Squire n</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UU8li3eKaok/TX-WGAn0uGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jc6m_64kFs0/s1600/Cornell%2BBooks.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">otes, “They’ve never caught on in America, for some reason”).<br /><br />Two of these new characters will become quite important later in the series: Jarvis Poker, the British Joker, who models himself after the Joker, but is much kinder and gentler, more of a rapscallion than a true villain; And the Shrike, a young man who hasn’t yet decided if he’ll be a hero or a villain.<br /><br />This issue feels like Mr. Cornell’s way of planting a flag, and of saying, “<u>this</u> is what Knight &amp; Squire will be. Unmistakably British, supremely character-driven, and a celebration of all that separates us, culturally and psychologically, from your side of the pond.”<br /><br />As I said, it was odd. But it was also new, and refreshing. And great. I couldn’t wait for Issue 2.<br /><br /><b>Issue 2:</b><br /><br />And then, sad to say, Issue 2 was a bit of a letdown, at least for me. It started out fantastic. We’re introduced to Great Wor<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gDFYmvb3Wv4/TX-mBC75NXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-FXm6ms53WE/s1600/Knight-Squire%2B2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 304px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584364599860868466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gDFYmvb3Wv4/TX-mBC75NXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-FXm6ms53WE/s320/Knight-Squire%2B2.jpg" /></a>den, Knight &amp; Squire’s hometown. A super villain is there to seek out and confront them, but instead he meets up with a shopkeeper who grouses about the fact that Knight &amp; Squire are never around, and do nothing to help out the community. But soon, we realize, the shopkeeper was faking it, just doing what it takes to send the super-villain back to London. Truth is, the whole town knows Knight &amp; Squire’s secret identity, and everyone does all they can to protect their hometown heroes.<br /><br />The rest of the issue … well, I had to re-read it to remember what happened. The first time through, I had a bit of trouble following the thread. I did much better this time, but it still strikes me as the weakest of the bunch. It’s possible – probable – that this is due to the cultural differences, and that my American-ness was just a bit more of a barrier in this issue than in others. Under different circumstances, I would have considered dropping the series after this issue. But this was written by Paul Cornell! Paul Cornell, who had Dracula attack London by shooting vampire missiles down from the moon; Paul Cornell, who gave Gorilla Grodd a No. 1 Attacking Spoon; Paul Cornell, who wrote Human Nature/Family of Blood, the most powerful Doctor Who episodes I’ve ever seen (he was showing them <u>mercy</u>. My God, that ending still gives me chills every time I think of it).<br /><br />Besides, I definitely loved that opening sequence, which said volumes about the type of heroes Knight &amp; Squire are, how enmeshed they are in their community, and how different they are from their American counterparts.<br /><br /><b>Issue 3 &amp; 4:</b><br /><br />I’m combining these in my summary, even though they were both excellent issues and great fun. In Issue 3 a gaggle of cloned British kings (led by Richard III!) run amok across the English countryside, determined to take back the throne. And in Issue 4, Squire has a date with Shrike, the young man from Issue 1, who has since decided to come down firmly on the “hero” side of the ledger. But, alas, their date is interrupted when Knight’s armor takes on a life of its own, and goes on the attack.<br /><br />After reading these issues, I knew just what Mr. Cornell was up to: Knight &amp; Squire was going to be a series of exciting, action-packed done-in-ones, with a romantic and personal thread running through them. I had no doubt that when this series ended, I would have had great fun, and read some terrific stories. But I wouldn’t have been emotionally moved. I would never feel a sense of terror or dread. It would all be quite lighthearted, quite good-natured, quite … British.<br /><br />This is, of course, what Mr. Cornell <u>wanted</u> me to think. He had structured this series perfectly: An issue of almost pure set-up, followed by a series of done-in-ones that continued the sense of fun, and deepened our understanding of this world. And now, we were only two issues from the end. Surely, the story would simply proceed as expected.<br /><br /><b>Issue 5:</b><br /><br />But, of course, it didn’t. Issue 5 starts out on a fairly dark note, as we learn that Jarvis Poker, the British Joker, is dying, and is questioning whether his life meant anything at all. As a gift to <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FGGthw9JZ1Y/TX-od8whyLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1wHpbDhFLO0/s1600/Knight-Squire5.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 142px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584367295442045106" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FGGthw9JZ1Y/TX-od8whyLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1wHpbDhFLO0/s320/Knight-Squire5.jpg" /></a>their old friend, Knight &amp; Squire essentially allow Jarvis to go on one last wacky crime spree; to make his mark, and go out on top. The issue then proceeds in the same lighthearted, fun fashion I’d come to expect from this mini-series.<br /><br />And then, t<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1dMk84TZ7M/TX-kYw1AjzI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QgOW4ip9Biw/s1600/Jarvis_Poker_01.jpg"></a>hings go bad. Fast. The Shrike tries to apprehend Jarvis Poker, who seems more annoyed than angered by this turn of event. But before their conversation can go very far, the Shrike is shot from off-panel. He goes tumbling off of London Bridge to his death. And we turn the page to reveal his killer -- the American Joker.<br /><br />And that’s just how I thought of him, as I was reading it: the <u>American</u> Joker. Not “the real Joker,” or simply “the Joker.” Because here, in this world Paul Cornell had created, Jarvis Poker was <u>my</u> Joker. And now this American psychopath had suddenly appeared, to tear his world apart. It seems the American Joker wasn’t happy with all the attention Jarvis Poker’s crime spree had garnered. So, he says, he’s come to England to kill all the British superheroes. And he’s going to make Jarvis help.<br /><br />Now that … <u>that</u> is how you end an issue. It’s shocking, and terrible, and a complete shift in tone. And yet it feels so <u>right</u>. How did Mr. Cornell accomplish this?<br /><br />Well, as I said, he did two things at once: he shocked and horrified us, <u>and</u> he completely shifted the tone of the book, while making it feel organic and correct. The shock and horror were a result of all the work he’d put in previously, over the past five issues. Every scene, every line, every panel, every character – every <u>moment</u> in this series was designed to make us think the stakes were much lower than in your average DC comic book. These guys aren’t fighting for life and death. The heroes and villains are all part of the same chummy club. This book is lighthearted! It’s goofy! It’s fun! Every crisis is resolved in 22 pages. So sit back, relax, and have a good time. Mr. Cornell accomplished this so completely that when the hammer falls, it catches us completely off-guard.<br /><br />But what about the second part? The shift in tone? How did that work? I mean, imagine if one of the Beagle Boys suddenly set Uncle Scrooge on fire. Or if Reggie stabbed Jughead in the heart. It wouldn’t work. We would throw the book down in disgust.<br /><br />So why did this work? Because in Knight &amp; Squire, <u>we never left the DC universe</u>. It’s clear, throughout the book, that Knight, Squire, the Shrike, Jarvis Poker, the Milk Men, the First Eleven, the Organ Grinder, all of them live in the same universe as Batman, Lex Luthor, the Green Lantern Corps and the rest of the DCU. This is never treated as some alternate universe or Elseworlds story. Instead, it’s treated as a place separated from the rest of the DCU only by culture and geography. So when the American Joker shows up, we’re stunned, but we understand. Of <u>course</u> he would show up. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? Nothing this good can last forever. Nothing this peaceful can stay uncorrupted, in a world as corrupt and dangerous as the DCU.<br /><br />So, as I said: it’s shocking. It’s terrible. But it feels just <u>right</u>. Well done, Mr. Cornell. I can’t wait to see what happens in Issue 6.<br /><br /><b>Sales Figures</b><br /><br />Because I’m both a comics writer and a pragmatist, I can’t wrap up without discussing one more thing: the sales figures.<br /><br />This story is amazing. The collected edition has easily earned a spot on my bookcase. But how did it fare in the marketplace? I looked around for a similar book to compare it to, but the problem is: there are no similar books. Finally, I settled on Captain Britain and MI: 13. It’s not a perfect comparison. Captain Britain was an ongoing, it was tied in to Secret Invasion, and the characters were more well-known. But both were very anglocentric, both were written by Mr. Cornell, and both came out every month, on time. And to be fair, I’m comparing only at the drop-off in sales figures, not the number of units sold.<br /><br />So, how do they compare? W</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z7gvBJBczoQ/TX-WVWsKO4I/AAAAAAAAAAU/UaBOh0cxx6o/s1600/Cornell%2BBooks.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584347356574923650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z7gvBJBczoQ/TX-WVWsKO4I/AAAAAAAAAAU/UaBOh0cxx6o/s320/Cornell%2BBooks.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">ell, Captain Britain 1 sold 43,281 issues (all numbers from ICv2). Issue 2 saw a 12 percent drop-off, and by issue 5, there’d been a 24 percent drop off from Issue 1. By contrast, Knight &amp; Squire started off at 21,867 issues sold. Issue 2 saw a 34 percent drop off, and by issue 5, there’d been a 53 percent drop-off.<br /><br />In a way, this isn’t surprising. Knight &amp; Squire was a tough book for Americans, and Cornell’s structure intentionally backloaded the emotional punch of the story. I could easily see some marketing executive asking whether the American Joker could show up at the end of Issue #1, or at least Issue #2.<br /><br />So, as wonderful as Cornell’s work here is, it’s probably not something we’ll see heavily emulated (as if that were even possible!). But I, for one, am thrilled to see a writer as talented as Mr. Cornell taking chances, and telling a great story, regardless of how easily marketable it is. The comics industry needs more of that type of risk-taking, more writers willing to tell unique stories that don’t follow the predictable patterns.<br /><br />Congratulations, Mr. Cornell. And thank you. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>Paul Allorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09162114643679897817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7800770256414501050.post-15704301538322010122011-03-02T17:15:00.000-08:002011-03-15T10:30:27.854-07:00What 'Brutal' Means to Me<span style="COLOR: rgb(42,42,42)" class="Apple-style-span"> <p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 17px; MARGIN: 0px 0px 1.35emfont-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;" class="ecxMsoNormal" ><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="Apple-style-span" >One of my favorite places is the Abbey of Gethsemani, a Trappist Monastery in Kentucky (and the home of writer Thomas Merton). And the interior of the main chapel is the first place I ever encountered the architectural style known as Brutalism.</span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 17px; MARGIN: 0px 0px 1.35emfont-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;" class="ecxMsoNormal" ><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="Apple-style-span" >In Brutalism, the form and function of a building is left exposed. Oftentimes architecture tries to hide the parts of a building that hold it up and keep it intact: the steel and brick and concrete, the columns and girders. But in Brutalism, these elements aren’t hidden. Instead, they’re a prominent part of the building’s look. In the Gethsemani chapel, the walls and ceiling are unadorned, exposed concrete, and the wooden rafters are clearly visible.</span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 17px; MARGIN: 0px 0px 1.35emfont-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;" class="ecxMsoNormal" ><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="Apple-style-span" >I thought about this when we formed the Brutal Circle. I believe what we’re doing here is very similar to Brutalist architecture. We’re exposing the form and function of stories. We’re breaking it down to the basic elements that serve as support for good storytelling; the intricate interweaving of plot, character arc, dialogue, pacing and so much more.</span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 17px; MARGIN: 0px 0px 1.35emfont-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;" class="ecxMsoNormal" ><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="Apple-style-span" >As storytellers, these things are our foundation, our support, our girders and columns and beams. They are as important to storytelling as the concrete and steel and wood that keeps our buildings intact.</span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 17px; MARGIN: 0px 0px 1.35emfont-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;" class="ecxMsoNormal" ><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="Apple-style-span" >We hope you enjoy your time here, as we work to create a solid foundation, and build our stories piece by piece.</span></p></span>Paul Allorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09162114643679897817noreply@blogger.com0